Chapter X – 'Is there any hope left?'

Elboron hated his father. He hated him and everything to do with him. Every time he thought about Faramir, his hot-headedness pushed him no more than an inch away from disowning his entire family. The only thing that held him back from this cataclysmic decision was Eldarion's constant presence and his insistence that everything would be all right in the end. This time, though, Elboron wasn't going to let Eldarion stop him.

Elboron passed the evening meal in silence. He sat to the right of his father and mother's empty seats, which meant that four chairs separated him from Eldarion: Éowyn's, Faramir's, Aragorn's, and Arwen's. Eldarion sat to his mother's left, but Elboron did not fail to catch the strained glances that Eldarion threw his way every other time there was a pause in the murmured conversation.

"Excuse me, my liege," said Elboron softly to the King, bowing politely at the waist as he rose. Aragorn looked worriedly upon his Steward's son.

"You have hardly touched your meal," he observed.

"Not to discredit the food of your table, King Elessar." Elboron's tone grew impatient as Aragorn held him up to chastise him like a small child for not eating his peas and carrots. "I have no appetite this evening, thank you." He bowed again to compensate for his moodiness and left the table. He almost bristled with anger when he heard the clink of a utensil against a plate and the quiet mumble of Eldarion excusing himself as well. He quickened his pace from the hall, but unless he wanted to run from the King's dinner table he could not evade Eldarion.

"Elboron, will you come to my chambers and share a game of dagor serni?" asked Eldarion kindly. He knew that Elboron loved playing dagor serni. It was an Elvish game of strategy that required the players to think as if they were on a battlefield attempting to capture enemy territory. Typical of the Elves, it demanded a level of foresight and adaptability that taxed the capability of humans to adjust their straight and narrow views of war tactic to look at things from a different perspective. As a soldier and a future captain and strategist, Elboron was delighted with such challenges. Today, however, it seemed that Elboron was not in the mood. He glowered at Eldarion and brushed past coolly.

"You can at least come to my room," Eldarion tried again. "We can talk, or…"

"I am going to bed," said Elboron dismissively. "I am tired. It has been a long day, and it will be a long night."

"Indeed," Eldarion was quick to agree. "My day has been likewise. I would rather not spend the evening in solitary confinement, accompanied only by the crackling of a lonely fire. Come, at least give me the comfort of a few moment's peace with you. Perhaps we can share a drink or two. If you doze off in my room, I will not wake you." Still Elboron resisted, but Eldarion wheedled just gently enough to persuade him to go.

"Very well." Elboron sounded more irritated than ever, but at least he had agreed. "I cannot stay for long, though. I am truly tired, Eldarion."

"I know. I do not ask for long, mellon nin."

Their judgment of 'long' differed from the norm. Elboron spent at least an hour in Eldarion's chambers, drinking brandy and playing various betting games to pass the time. By the time they remembered to play dagor serni, neither of them felt clear-headed enough for such a game of strategy. At that point Eldarion drew the line and poured the rest of his glass of brandy into the basin. Elboron had less self-control. Eldarion had never seen his friend drunk before that night, and now he rather regretted giving Elboron brandy at a time when he was so susceptible to weakness. At the same time, though, perhaps it would offer Eldarion a chance to catch Elboron in a more trusting, naive moment…

"I have been thinking," Eldarion began in a levelheaded tone, "and I believe that maybe you should speak with your father. I have seen him often lately, and it seems to me that he longs for your company…"

Elboron laughed. "Liar."

Eldarion sighed. Instead of being more trusting, Elboron grew only more cynical with the addition of the brandy. "If you would trust me just this once…"

"You weary me," drawled Elboron. Instead of meeting Eldarion's eyes, he sat rigidly in his chair with his head cocked haughtily to one side. Through bleary eyes, he stared at the tapestry hanging upon the wall. It was a tapestry designed to depict a scene of glory; two men stood upon a battlefield, surrounded by the enemies they had slain, holding their swords aloft in triumph. The only feeling it stirred in Elboron was of resentment. He wished that he had a battle he could throw himself into recklessly. He wished for a thousand bloody cuts and bruises, so that he would be able to forget about the internal pain for a while.

"Elboron—"

"Tell me, how many times are you going to say the same things over and over again? How many times do you think you can make empty promises before I get tired of hearing the lies behind them?"

"They are not lies," said Eldarion stiffly. "I have promised you nothing. I have only offered you my friendship, and you have turned away. If my words are empty, it is because you have made them so."

"You told me that he would not stay like this!" Elboron snarled. "You told me that it would only take time! How much time, Eldarion? It's already been more than two weeks! How much longer? A month? Two? Five? A year?"

"Everyone heals differently." Eldarion forced himself to keep his eyes level with Elboron's and his tone calm. Restraining himself was a skill he had learned from his father, although right now it was also a skill that was battling with his father's temper. "I think you are expecting too much from him too soon."

"I don't agree." Elboron's voice had turned icy. "I think he is not expecting enough of himself. He is no longer willing to be my father, so I am no longer willing to be his son."

"Please, mellon nin," begged Eldarion for the millionth time. "You must forgive him. I beg you to listen to someone standing outside of the matter. You are both suffering, and you are both reacting poorly to your grief! If you would take a few days to calm down instead of making rash decisions—"

"Oh, believe me, Eldarion, this is anything but a rash decision!" Elboron was half-way between crying and shouting. The look of pity on Eldarion's face infuriated him. "I have waited and I have thought and I have calculated the consequences, and this is what I have decided! I'm not going to listen to you this time! I am going to Elessar tonight and getting my name removed from my family!"

"Elboron, think for a moment! You have had more than your share of the brandy tonight! You are not in the right mind to be making these kinds of decisions!

"Don't tell me what to do!"

"But you have both lost so much already! You cannot lose each other, as well!"

"I am losing nothing! I cannot bear to call myself his son any longer! If he didn't want to lose me, he wouldn't ignore me! Neither of us care, so why do you?"

"You make assumptions," Eldarion growled. "Faramir does care, and I know that you do, too. You are ignoring each other. The fault in this conflict lies in both of you! Faramir should not shut out the rest of the world, and you should not grow so angry and spiteful and cruel! Laurelindë was almost in tears yesterday when you snapped at her! You are treating all of us like we are your enemies, and we do not deserve it!"

"Then you should go away and leave me alone! I do not deserve your concern!" shouted Elboron, rising from his seat with fists clenched. Eldarion rose at the same time, towering sternly over his friend. Automatically, Elboron shrank into a defensive posture, and Eldarion's sternness faded away into sorrow.

"Have you lost so much of yourself that you cannot see that I am still your friend?" Eldarion whispered in a pained voice.

Elboron looked away, scowling. "I don't need friends."

"If you don't need friends, then what do you need, Elboron?"

Elboron stormed towards the door, purposefully knocking his shoulder into Eldarion's as he marched past. At the door, he turned. Eldarion could see the tears welling in his eyes. His voice was hoarse as he answered, "I need a mother, Eldarion." With that, he was gone.

Eldarion swore violently and buried his face in his arms.

The door creaked open slowly after a few minutes, and Eldarion wiped his tears away quickly in case it was his father. But it was Arwen, not Aragorn, who stepped through the door into Eldarion's room. Eldarion let his gaze fall in shame. He knew that his mother could see that he had been crying.

"Do not be embarrassed to cry," she said in soft Elvish, taking her son into her arms in a way she had not since he could sit in her lap. "You may always shed tears for lost friends." Eldarion tried to swallow his tears as a man must, but he found that his mother's gentle caress drew the sorrow from his heart as only a mother's touch can. Leaning his head against her shoulder, he wept for Elboron and his pain.

"It is too much, Mother," he whispered despairingly. "I cannot do this. I am only seventeen years old. I know not how to heal a broken heart. I have succeeded in nothing but pushing him farther away…" He listened to the beating of his mother's heart and tried to imagine her gone, lost to him forever. He saw her wandering aimlessly beneath golden leaves as she faded away from time and memory…in darkness and in doubt…the light of her eyes quenched…cold and grey as nightfall in winter that comes without a star…

"Nothing is helping," Eldarion continued. "I am trying so hard to help, but it seems like I can only watch him get angrier and more grieved every day." He paused, but Arwen was silent. "Will this ever end, or will they be apart like this forever? I fear for them both…and yet…" He growled. "Someone should knock some sense into their heads! Both of them!"

Arwen almost smiled. He sounded so much like his father. "There is nothing that you can do to change the past," she said. "What is done, is done. The great Valar and the One have a plan in mind that encompasses all that occurs. What should and should not be is not for mortals to judge."

"Yet it is mortals who must live it," Eldarion argued.

"He must heal himself." Arwen closed her eyes. "He must find hope. We must all find it."

"Is there any hope left?"

Arwen held him tighter. "Yes, my son. There will always be hope for those who seek it."

The door behind them burst open, and Arwen and Eldarion spun to see Elphir stagger his way into the room. Alarm and confusion flashed in his eyes.

"Elphir!" cried Arwen. "What is wrong?"

It took Elphir a few moments to catch his breath, and when he spoke, his voice was full of fear. "I-I woke just now…and Faramir is gone! I know not where he has gone! I cannot find Elessar, but the guards told me I could find you here with the Prince. Please, your Majesty… I must find him. I fear he shall…"

"Speak not of it!" Arwen exclaimed sternly. "It shall not happen! You said that you could not find the King?"

"I know where he is," said Eldarion wearily. Arwen and Elphir turned to him. "Elboron left my chambers with the purpose of speaking with Ada about disowning his family. If I guess rightly, they will be in his office discussing the matter even now."

Elphir moved back towards the door, but Arwen stood up and put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "I will go," she said softly. "Eldarion, stay here with Elphir and have him sit down before he collapses. I will find Elessar. He will know where to find Faramir."

"How can you be so sure?" asked Elphir. Arwen was already gone.

"Elboron, you know that it is not your father's doing that has caused this tragedy."

Elboron said nothing in reply to the King, but glared back at him fiercely. His blue eyes and blonde hair were painful reflections of his mother's, and Aragorn's tone softened slightly.

"Elboron… You cannot allow your grief to cause you to judge your father falsely. His pain is greater than you can imagine—"

"Oh, is it?" Elboron spat, intensifying his glare. "Why is she only his wife to you? She was my mother, too! His pain is no worse than mine! He is a coward! A selfish coward!"

Aragorn sighed and rubbed his temples. "Elboron, your father knows the pain of losing a mother…"

"When he was five!"

"…as do I." Elboron's retort died on his lips, and he stared at Aragorn in shock. "My mother Gilraen has been dead for many long years. I wasvery much older thanyourself, but the pain was the same." He paused, thinking back again to Thranduil's letter. "Her last words to me were, 'Ónen i-Estel Edain, ú-chebin estel anim.' 'I gave Hope to the Dúnedain, I have kept no hope for myself.'"

Elboron grunted. "At least you spoke with her before she died…" He bowed his head to wipe away his tears discreetly, but Aragorn noticed. The King leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his desk.

"Faramir had no way of knowing what was happening," he whispered. "He asked you to wait outside. This was not a request born of spite or sadism, but of his concern for your own well being. Please do not hold this grudge against him, Elboron. He is going to need you, and you are going to need him, as well."

"If he needs me so badly, then why hasn't he spoken to me?" asked Elboron stiffly. "Why hasn't he spoken to anyone? He doesn't need my help. He needs to be put away somewhere dark and quiet and left there alone until he returns to his senses."

Elboron's hostility caught Aragorn off guard, and he leaned back again. "Don't speak like that, Elboron," he ordered gently. "You don't mean it."

"Yes I do," said Elboron firmly, staring Aragorn in the eye. He gripped the arms of his chair to steady himself; the brandy was making everything a little foggy. "I mean every word of it. If he isn't going to talk to anyone, then what is the point in trying to talk to him?" He looked away and shook his head. "He doesn't need me. And I don't need him, either. And with all due respect, my liege Elessar, I don't need you. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't want your help. I only want you to remove the burden of my family's name from me."

"I cannot do that, Elboron."

"You can!" Elboron snapped. "You will not!"

"Very well. I will not."

Elboron stood and didn't bother to bow as he made his way to the door.

"Your father is dying."

Elboron paused and looked back over his shoulder. "If he is allowing himself die, consumed by his weakness, then so be it." The door opened, closed, and Elboron was gone.

Aragorn rested his head in one hand, overcome by fatigue. Between Thranduil's letter, Legolas' ruthless insistence that he speak with Faramir, the arrival of the envoy from Harad, Elboron's furious vendetta against his father, the dispersing of the Council throughout Gondor, Eldarion's despondent mood, and his nagging guilt about Faramir, Aragorn was sure that the stress had aged him several years already.

The door opened, and Arwen hurried in, breathless in her haste. Aragorn was already standing and around the desk by the time she spoke.

"Faramir," she whispered. "He is missing."

Aragorn closed his eyes. His worst fears were coming true. After days of silence and illness, Faramir was missing. At first he wanted to curse Elphir for not keeping a closer watch, but he quickly reminded himself that blaming him was unfair. It didn't matter where the fault lay. The only thing that mattered was finding Faramir…

Aragorn opened his eyes.

"I know where he is."

mellon nin

(my friend)

dagor serni

(battle stones)

Ada

(Father)

Author's Note: The Elvish game that I call dagor serni here is based on the Japanese game called Go. It is similar to chess in that it is a game of strategy, but at the same time it is nothing like chess because the object is to secure territory, not to capture your opponent's pieces.